In the marshland by the river sulks the otter in its den,
And the piping of the peeweet sounds across the distant fen.
On the stormy mere the wild-duck pushes outward from the brake,
With her downy brood around her seeks the centre of the lake.
In the east the restless roe-deer bellows to its frightened hind,
On thy track the wolf-hounds gather, sniffing up against the wind.
Yet, O Dermot, sleep a little, this one night our fear hath fled,
Lad to whom my love is given, see, I watch beside thy bed.”